I stared down the row of product, already dreading the time-sink that was my morning routine. Each bottle had a proper label, organized by order of application, measured and sized by dosage to last a full week. Any longer than that, and I’d need a bigger shelf for my shower.
I stepped into the bay and hoofed the shower nozzle to the right. Spinning the hot and cold knobs, I found the familiar groove for each and waited for the water to turn warm. A rush of cold jarred me awake from standing too close to the back-splash against the wall. The errant spray of water rolled right off my oily mane, but clung to my matted flank, chilling my unstretched muscles. Sighing, I knew it was going to be another one of those mornings.
A pool of steam rose up around my hooves, and I turned the nozzle forward again with a nod of my horn. The seconds ticked by as I indulged my senses in the relaxing fall of rain. A little twirl and shake of the tail had me sufficiently wet on all fronts. If that were all, I would be one happy pony. Unfortunately, I was just getting started. To add insult to injury, a new bottle from Rarity gave me a nineteenth task to look forward to following the standard regimen. Marigold Renewing Agent—who knew they could be used for more than just lunch?
First came the shampoo. Oh no, not just any shampoo. This was specially formulated for the mane, not to be confused with the tail or any of the five other soap products on the shelf. Coat wash, tail shampoo, all natural scrub infused with mineral-oil especially for delicate hooves, feather fluff—one of the worst things about growing a pair of wings had to be the maintenance—whoever invented all these things sure wasn’t a mare, and they certainly never consulted an alicorn.
I levitated the huge bottle of essential oils coat conditioner off the shelf and just stared at the label. The fact that I only knew what half of the ingredients were should have been a big enough warning not to come within fifty hooves of the stuff. However, I’d barely skimmed the surface. The more exotic fare was yet to come. Mane-and-tail detangler, fetlock conditioner, dock oil, horn polish: the list went on.
I stared into the mirrored wall at the back of the stall, the warm water splashing against my flank barely helping to soothe the tension and not upset the conditioning agent in my mane. Peering through a bubbly curtain of bangs, I searched to catch a glimpse of the pretty pony princess everypony expected me to be. Why can’t this be simple? There has to be an easier way.
But there was! Why hadn’t I thought of it before? The solution was right in front of my nose, or, actually, right above my eyes and between my ears!
I ran my hornglow down the shelf. Every lid of every bottle and container popped open emptying its contents into an amalgamated swirl of color and smell. Measuring out an ample supply for immediate use, I tucked the rest into the giant coat conditioner bottle and began the process of smearing the glop across my body. Needless to say, the tingle down my neck and across my withers made the entire experiment well worth it.
I grabbed my soft brush and worked over every hair, feather, and patch of fur I could find. Even my hooves took a polish. I couldn’t wait to see the results.
“Sweet Celestia!” Rarity screamed, looking up from the row of mane dryer chairs against the side wall. “What happened to you, Twilight?”
As embarrassed as I was, I felt even more so standing in the doorway to the Ponyville Spa, practically unrecognizable to the untrained eye, with what was left of my tail hanging threadbare and barely covering my plot. Rarity’s instant and expert assessment of my current state of unfashionable appearance fell like a hammer on my ears.
“I took a shower,” I replied. The red in my cheeks shone brightly through discolored patches of fur. Frazzled bits of mane stuck out at all angles making me look more like a porcupine than a princess. “My brilliant idea turned out to be not so brilliant after all.”
“Oh dear! It wasn’t the Marigold Renewing Agent, was it?” Rarity cringed, taking stock of my awful state on full display as I paraded myself out into the center of the spa. She looked ready to faint as the spa ponies rushed to my aid.
“Right this way, Princess,” Aloe said. “Have a seat on the glamour emergency chair.”
I quickly took a seat. In no time at all, the help I so sorely needed began to be administered by the gentle hooves of the spa owners. I sighed while trying to maintain my posture as Aloe started picking through my mane and Lotus smeared a heavy cream on my chemically singed flank.
Turning back to the worried stare from my friend, I replied, “No, Rarity, it wasn’t the Marigold Agent. I tried taking a shortcut and magically mixed all my products together. The resulting mess burned my mane, bleached my coat, and made my tail so brittle, half of it broke off or fell out on the way here.” I held up one of my blackened hooves as well. “I know what you’re going to say, so just get it out there.”
“Now is not the time for ‘I told you so’, Twilight Sparkle.” Rarity rushed forward and tossed on a spa gown. “We must do everything in our power to right this fashion faux pas this instant! I’ll do whatever I can to help. Don’t you worry, dear, we’ll have you all fixed up as soon as possible.”
“It’s alright, Rarity. Aloe and Lotus have it covered. I already called ahead, and they’re flying in a vat of industrial purple dye from Canterlot.”
At the mere mention of an industrial coat dye procedure, Rarity fainted.
I levitated her back over to her drying chair. Thankfully, my magic still worked even with the pockmarks and rust streaks running down my horn. I vowed to never again take shortcuts when it came to basic hygiene and beauty products. Things were already more complicated than they should be, and I wasn’t doing myself any favors by stirring the pot.
Author's Note
Just a quick, silly, little story about the wonders of mare care products.
There's got to be an easier way, right?
